The Football Fan in the Anthropologist
by jenlovesbones
Summary: "I concede that, when looking at it from the perspective of being able to predict future performance based on past performance, football is an interesting event, mathematically speaking."  One-shot written for a bet, lost to TravelingSue!


TravelingSue, a Patriots fan, challenged me to write a fic if the Colts lost tonight, about the game. I won't explain my feelings about said game to you. Why? Well, strangely enough, Brennan's about to explain my very similar feelings to you. No promises that it's remarkably interesting. Just a little exercise for my muse, if you will. This is not in cannon with season 6, though I think it stays pretty in character. I wrote this while I was watching a bit of season 1 and 4 on TV tonight, remembering the days when Booth oozed awesome, instead of that Hannah-laced stank he's unleashed in season 6.

_Also, no offense to any non-Colts-cheerleaders, but this was as nice as I could be to the Patriots and other teams in the NFL. I bleed Colts Blue. : )_

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__**-Second Quarter-**_

"Bones?"

He tried again. "Bones!"

"Hmm…" she answered distractedly, still not looking away from that which had her attention.

"I was asking if you could pass me the notes from Cam's autopsy. Where'd you go?" Booth asked as Brennan complied with his request and passed him the notes he needed to work on the next part of his report from the other side of his couch.

"I was just paying attention to the sporting event on your television."

"Really? Since when?" Booth asked surprised.

"Since the clock was at approximately nine minutes during the first quarter," she stated.

Booth chuckled. "No, I meant since when do you pay attention to football?"

"Since a few weeks ago, when Hodgins explained a game he plays using real statistics based on current players performances each week," she said, turning her focus back to the report she was writing.

"You mean fantasy football?"

"I think that's what he called it. It's an interesting way to take a relatively juvenile event and make it interesting using mathematical principals to predict different outcomes each week."

"I thought that, anthropologically speaking, sports are just a way for boys to practice their battle skills, and watching them was a childish act?"

"The first part of that is still true. Look at how the players go at each other. They're on opposite sides of the fields, and they just charge headfirst into one another. All they're missing are swords to complete the battle picture."

"And as for the childishness of watching sports?"

"I concede that, when looking at it from the perspective of being able to predict future performance based on past performance, football is an interesting event, mathematically speaking."

"Mathematically speaking…" Booth muttered, as he shook his head, smiling. She never failed to surprise him.

"Who's Hodgins' quarterback?" he asked.

"Peyton Manning, of course."

Booth scoffed. "Why 'of course'?"

"Statistically speaking, Peyton Manning has the highest probability to successfully lead a team, especially a team pieced together based on their ability to perform, as the picking and choosing of your team in a fantasy football league allows. Also, Angela says Peyton Manning is one of the best looking quarterbacks in the NFL, and she might have had some influence into Hodgins' choice."

"Of course she did," Booth said with a low laugh.

They continued to work for a couple minutes, before their attention went from their paperwork back to the game. At the very end of the second quarter, and Reggie Wayne caught the ball in the end zone in a close call, bringing the Colts within seven points of tying the Patriots.

"Yes!" Brennan cheered, jumping off the couch slightly as she cheered. Booth looked at her, amused.

"What?" Brennan asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"So you've decided you're a Colts fan, have you?"

"Well, they are currently playing, so it seems natural that I would choose a team to cheer for during this game."

"Why not cheer for the Patriots?" he asked. She looked at him like she was crazy.

"I admit that the Patriots have some talented players, but I have no desire to cheer for them."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because." He looked at her and she knew he wasn't going to let this go.

"Because they are the archrival of the Indianapolis Colts, and cheering for them would be counterproductive to Hodgins' goal of winning his league. I choose not to cheer against my friends."

There was a long pause between the two of them.

"Also, I think Tom Brady is in need of a haircut," she added.

Booth laughed heartily. "That's a very logical reason to not support the Pats."

"It doesn't make any sense. Quarterbacks are very well-compensated for only needing to perform their job once a week for one-third of each year. Surely, he could find the time and has the finances to have his hair cut." Booth continued to laugh, and she laughed with him.

Halftime came, and they settled back into their reports.

"How long until you're done with your paperwork?" Booth asked.

"Not much longer. Another 20 minutes, give or take a little."

"How about we keep working through halftime, and we finish watching the game once it's back? I can order a pizza…"

"That sounds like an excellent plan."

_**.**_

_**-And into the fourth quarter-**_

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"Yes! Ha ha! Did you see that? Two touchdowns, back to back, in three minutes and eleven seconds!"

Booth eyes widened as he saw his very straight-laced partner jumping around, pointing at the television, almost… _is she dancing?_... in the final four minutes of the Colts/Patriots game.

"You doubted they'd be able to make up 17 points in so little time. But there's 14 of them for you," Brennan said smugly, as she settled back on the couch, grinning like a fool.

_**.**_

_**-Four minutes later-**_

_**. **_

"Bones, you're pouting."

"Am not."

Booth laughed loudly. "Yes, you are. You could give Parker a run for his money when it comes to pouting."

She ignored him. "This is just ridiculous. Instead of using the last 40 seconds available on the clock to play the game, to do what they're paid to do, they just keep running the clock out."

"The Patriots won. If they keep playing, they take the chance of losing the ball."

"Which obviously makes the Colts the superior team, because if the Patriots were really confident in their ability to win, they wouldn't have to hide the ball from the other team in this juvenile way."

Booth was still laughing at her outrage. "All the teams do it, Bones. Even the Colts, when they have the opportunity."

"It's lazy. Lazy teams shouldn't win."

"You're just mad that your team lost."

Brennan pursed her lips together. "I find my anger at the situation irrational, yet I am angry nonetheless."

Booth reached out and patted her knee. "Better luck next week, Bones."

She sat there angrily for another moment in silence. Booth stood up and took the pizza box and their empty beer bottles into his kitchen and she realized since the game was over, so she should probably gather her things to leave. When Booth returned to the room, he saw Brennan standing, packing her bag. But he wasn't quite ready for her to leave yet.

"You know, the Eagles play the Giants in tonight's Sunday night game. You could stay and watch that game with me too, if you want."

"I thought you were a Steelers fan?"

"Philly against any New York team, or Philly against any team but my Steelers, and I'm gonna root for Philly."

Brennan hesitated as she considered the game. "I would be interested in watching the next game as well, but I have to tell you that I won't be rooting for the Eagles."

"What? Why?" Booth said at a near whine.

"Mathematically speaking, Peyton Manning is the best quarterback in the NFL. It only makes sense to translate my support to someone who shares his genetics, and his brother is quarterback for the New York Giants. I'm going to have to root for the Giants."

"It'll never happen. No way do the Giants beat the Eagles. And are you sure you want to be supporting Manning after that game."

"Two of Manning's top running backs and his top receiver are out with injuries. He was at a slight disadvantage today, and had there been 20 more seconds left in the game, I'm convinced he would have won. Peyton Manning is the best quarterback currently playing in the league and it stands to reason that his brother would be an excellent performer as well. I'm convinced that Peyton Manning could put together a winning team with just the staff at the Jeffersonian."

"A team of squints? Ha! That's a game I'd watch," Booth exclaimed.

"All games are a game of chance. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But with Peyton leading our team scientists and technicians, I am confident that we could learn the rules and plays quickly enough, quicker than most teams, and play effectively."

"Yeah, your squints would make an interesting defensive team, given that they're all scrawny and would crack in two if they had to try and knock down a professional football player.

"Hmm," she murmured.

"What?"

"Factoring the average size of the NFL's defensive players, I think you may have a point about the average Jeffersonian employee playing defense," she said thoughtfully. "Perhaps we could open recruitment for our defensive team to the FBI," she said, grabbing his arm as she realized what a good idea it was.

"Hey, I take offense to that," Booth exclaimed. "FBI agents are good for more than just muscle. I'll have you know I played quarterback in high school."

"Hmmm… No, sorry," she said seriously, as if she gave it a moment's thought. "Peyton is our quarterback. You can apply for a different another position on our team."

"Bones, I was an excellent quarterback. I broke multiple records in my high school's division."

"'Was' being the important tense there. Since you aren't still a quarterback, Peyton is our quarterback. You can try out for our team though, if you wish."

Booth frowned. Brennan smiled. Then Booth grabbed her elbow and began to drag her to the door.

"Get up. Up, up, up, up…"

"Hey," she said as she playfully swatted him. "You're mad that I won't let you be our quarterback, so you're kicking me out?" she asked as he indicated that she should turn so that he could help her put her coat on.

"No, I just don't have enough beer to make it through the next three hours with you, so we're going to the store before the next game begins."

"You need beer to _survive_ the next three hours with me," she said, a twinge of hurt in her voice.

He heard it, and put his arm around her shoulder, "If you're going to continue to insult my team and my athletic prowess, we're going to need more beer."

Brennan continued to pout as they walked out of his building.

"You know, you're the only person in the history of football watching who chooses what teams to support based on scientific explanations," Booth said, breaking the silence.

"That's extreme hyperbole Booth. And not provable. If people were smart, they would factor science, such as kinesiology, and statistics into their choices, so they are more likely to have a positive experience while watching a specific team perform. It's likely many people have chosen their teams by using such logic."

"Pie," Booth said.

"What?"

"We're going to need beer _and _pie for this game."

"Like you need an excuse for pie," she muttered loud enough for him to hear, as they walked down the street to prepare for the next game they would watch that night. "If you're getting pie, I want ice cream."

They continued to debate the logic of making up to three stops to prepare for one game as they walked to the first stop, entertaining those within earshot, oblivious to the world as their banter continued in happy alternation.

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_Cause don't you miss the banter? If you liked what just happen, tell me via that little review button located below. Pleeeease : )_


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